Maybe
by StoryGirl02
Summary: Don’t flatter yourself. Why you I be looking at you, when you are hardly anything to look at?” she asked. “Why would I waste the time and effort?” He shrugged. “Whatever. You’re trying to deny it Fleur Delacour, but I can see right through you."


**Maybe**

_-maybe this time-_

* * *

Oh, this 'Ogwarts was boring the life out of her. She could barely stand it, honestly. The boys were of a sub-standard, none of them measuring up to the quality of the French boys she so utterly desired.

But she accepted Roger Davies when he asked her to the Yule Ball, because at least he looked a little bit better than her mother's backside. At least he didn't stutter when he talked around her, didn't drooled, didn't dribbled, not like the majority of these 'Ogwarts's boys.

Fleur poked at her food, blonde hair pulled back into a bun. She didn't care to actually eat the plate of food in front of her, it looked too lumpy and terribly English for her taste. The girls beside her, however, dressed in the lumpy robes of 'Ogwarts, were scoffing it down like it would be their last meal. She could contain her disgust at them, shaking her head softly.

Thank god she would be leaving this England in less than a few weeks.

She could barely wait to go back to France, and rid the memory of these neanderthal English boys from her mind at the sight of her well-groomed, perfectly-sculpted French boys.

Just a few more weeks.

* * *

Her dress was on, and her hair was done. She looked beautiful, to say it herself, fair better than anything these English boys could ever get. But she was here, in boring cold England, and she was going to make the best of it.

She was going to shine at the Yule Ball, she was sure of it.

Fleur let Roger Davies slip her arm around his, and let him lead her to the doors of the Great Hall, her eyes closing as she waited for the boredom to seize.

A nudge for Roger jolted her, and she opened her eyes to stare him down, glaring. "Sorry," he said, apologising as he tugged at the collar of his dress robes. "I just wanted to tell you something before we entered the Great Hall."

"Yes?" she questioned, resisting the urge to pull her arm away from him.

"Y-y-you're beautiful, like Devil's Snare in winter," Roger stuttered out, making her groan inwardly. Honestly, when would these English boys catch up to the rest of the world? A woman never wanted to be referred to a plant, honestly! And if she was unfortunately refer to a plant, why couldn't they refer her to something a little bit more attractive than a Devil's Snare!

But still she thanked him.

When would this night end?

"No, you don't get it, Fleur," Roger said. "You're beautiful, I really mean it. You're beautiful all the time, and you don't even need makeup to look pretty. But if you want to wear makeup that's okay with me. I mean, it only enhances your beauty. Umm, do you get what I'm trying to say?" She nodded, and finally a smile came to her lips.

Roger looked relieved. "Oh, good. Oh, look, they're opening the doors!"

_Thank god_, she thought, but let him lead her inside, her fake smile wide.

* * *

She pulled her shoes off with a slight groan of relief, her hair loose and brushed out. The dress was thrown carelessly over a chair, and she had pulled her pyjamas on, a robe around her as she shivered, trying to keep warm.

Fleur collapsed into bed.

She was asleep within seconds.

Only two more weeks to go until she was back in France.

_Thank god._

* * *

_"Maman!"_

"Oh, my Fleur it is so good to see you," her mother gushed, hugging her tightly. "I thought this silly England would change you terribly, but it hasn't. You still look this same; you're still my gorgeous daughter that I remember. But I think you've gained a few pounds, do you?"

Fleur nodded.

"It must be all this heavy English food," her mother said, looking thoughtful. "We will have to work on it when we get home, yes? We can't have you looking not your best, especially with all those balls coming up. There will be plenty of eligible suitors there, and we want them to be enthralled by your beauty, yes?"

She nodded once more, before her mother released her. Her father pulled her into his arms, and despite the fact that she was several inches taller than him, she still felt like a little girl. "Hello, Papa," she whispered, placing a soft kiss on his stubbly cheek.

"My gorgeous princess, you look like the belle of the ball," her father told her. "Don't listen to your Maman, you look beautiful. In fact, the weight you've supposedly gained is hardly noticeable."

"Louis, don't you say that to her! Our Fleur is a beauty, yes, but beautiful people are never overweight, despite how little that weight might be. Don't you wish that she could find the best suitor possible? And how do you suppose she could do that without looking her absolute best, hmm?" Maman looked at Papa, shaking her head.

Her Papa looked at her. "I'm sorry, Princess. I just wanted you to feel good about yourself, not matter how you look. Satisfied, Apolline?"

Her mother nodded. "Very."

"Good," her father said. "Then perhaps we could go and pay some attention to our other daughter. Maybe you can ridicule me and Gabriele some more."

Her family were so dysfunctional.

But what her mother said was true.

She would make an effort to shed the pounds as soon as she got back to France.

* * *

Her Maman spent the rest of the time critising Gabrielle, who took it better than Fleur herself would have at ten years old. While her Maman and Papa were arguing underneath their breath, she sat down and looked around the room, finding herself drawn to watching the other normal families interact.

A red headed woman embracing a black-haired boy caught her eyes. Harry Potter, whom she adored for saving her sister- _she just knew that those uncouth Mermans would have killed Gabrielle if she had not been saved, they were liked that-_ hugged the woman back, seemly shocked at her arrival.

An equally as red-haired man standing beside the woman hugged Harry next. He looked to young to be her husband, perhaps her son, instead? Whatever he was, he was certainly attractive, fair better than any boy here at 'Ogwarts.

Perhaps English boys were ugly only until they grew up to be men. Maybe they were like ugly ducklings, transforming into handsome swans. However they did it, she was glad, for this gave her hope for the English boys.

She watched the red-haired man a little longer, while her parents argued some more. Fleur found herself entranced by him, and was pleasantly surprised when he turned around and smiled at her.

She smiled back, before she was dragged away by a pleading Gabrielle, her sister begging her to make her parents stop arguing.

That red-haired man had certainly caught her attention.

* * *

The next time she bumped into him was the beginning of the Third Task, hours later. The nerves had begun to set in for her, and she was grasping her wand tightly, biting down on her bottom lip.

Turning around, she found herself face-to-face with the red-haired man from before. "Hello," he said, smiling softly.

She smiled back. "Hi."

"I'm Bill. Bill Weasley," he told her, before looking out into the arena.

"Fleur Delacour," she replied.

"I noticed that you were staring at me before, and I wondered why," he said smugly, a cocky smile on his lips. She wanted to slap that cocky look right off of his face, but she resisted the urge. She had been brought up to not do that, and she wasn't going to ruin years of etiquette lessons and hundreds of dollars, just for this one smug English man.

"Don't flatter yourself, Bill Weasley. Why you I be looking at you, when you are hardly anything to look at?" she asked. "Why would I waste the time and effort, hmm?"

He shrugged. "Whatever. You're trying to deny it Fleur Delacour, but I can see right through you."

She laughed softly, slipping her wand in her pocket. "You are pathetically cute. Stupidly, disgustingly cute," she told him. "That is what I think of you. Now, if you'll please excuse me, I have a certain Third Task to complete."

Fleur walked away from the cocky Bill Weasley, drawing her wand back out and grasping it tightly once more. "Good luck," he called out. "Don't break a leg!"

She shot him an icy glare over her shoulder.

"_I won't." _

* * *

Honestly, why did this happen to her? An enchanted maze, well thank you very much, she really needed this. She was already competing against three boys that were possibly stronger than her, now she needed to keep aware of that fact, and fight off whatever came her way.

On top of that, she knew that the cocky Bill Weasley would be watching her.

She just had to survive whatever this maze threw at her.

No matter what it was.

* * *

Oh god, every bone in her body hurt. Her hair was a wreck, and sweat was continual pouring down her face. She panted for breath, bending over, a hand holding her ribs.

This maze was a terror, for sure. She didn't know exact what else it had to offer, but what it had shown her had been horrible to fight off. These 'Ogwarts teachers were definitely trying their best to throw everything at her and her fellow champions.

She just hoped that the boys were struggling with the maze as much as she was.

Then maybe she would have a chance to win this, and bring the trophy and the glory back to France. Suitors would be chasing after her, for sure, if she won this.

She took another deep breath, before straightening up, wand in her hand.

And there was Krum, standing before her, equally as sweaty and looking as tired as she felt. The last thing she remembered was saying "Hello, Victor," before she fell into darkness, her body tumbling into the bushes.

* * *

_Ouch. _

What had happened to her?

_Ouch, ouch, ouch. _

She winced, trying to sit up. A hand was there, pushing her straight back down. The person blurred in her mind for a second before the image cleared, and she recognised the short man as the charms professor at 'Ogwarts.

"Don't try to sit up miss, you've been attacked and you're injured," he said,

_Attacked? _

It all came back in a whirl.

_Oh._

Krum.

She sat up regardless of what Flitwick had said, shaking her head furiously. "Attacked?" she questioned the professor, her lips thinning into a straight line.

Flitwick nodded. "Yes, Miss Delacour, you were attacked. By Victor Krum, who is under suspect of being the victim of the Imperius curse," he told her seriously, taking in her thin lips. She nodded softly.

"Oh, Fleur!" her sister let out a soft cry, rushing towards her. Gabrielle dropped to her knees, and peering over her shoulder, Fleur could spot her parents making their way through the crowd. She sat up hastily, thinking, before turning to her sister.

"Help me up," she said, and Gabrielle compiled, pulling her up swiftly. Then she was gone, disappearing into the frantic crowd, her sister calling after her.

Right now, she didn't need her mother fussing over her.

She was going to find Bill Weasley.

* * *

He was leaning against the wall in the same doorway she had left him in, his eyes closed. He was humming underneath his breath, and at the moment she thought he was adorable, even though he was one cocky bastard.

Fleur walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder, trying to ignore the aches in her arm.

His eyes opened. "Yes?"

"Nothing, I thought you'd like to know that I survived the maze," she told him smugly.

He looked her up and down, taking in the dirt and mud on her clothes and the way she favoured her right side. "Yeah, I can see that."

Fleur huffed. "Fine, I barely survived the maze. Happy? Even before Viktor attacked me, I was having trouble dealing with it."

He looked even cocky for a moment, before the façade shattered. "Wait, Krum attacked you?" he asked, glancing at her. She nodded softly. He clenched his fists. "I'm going to kill that-"

She cut him off by shaking her head. "Why would you care? Less than an hour ago, you were acting like you didn't even care whether or not I survived the maze. Now you want to kill Viktor Krum because he attacked me? Sorry, Bill Weasley, but I can't keep up with your mood swings."

He looked lost for words.

"Honestly, you give the word 'wanker' a whole new meaning," she told him.

She was certain that by the end of the day, this English boy would know not to mess with French girls ever again, especially her.

She gave him one last look, before she walked away.

_Why had she ever thought that he was attractive?_

* * *

She was halfway back to her sister and her parents when he called out for her to wait. He was panting softly by the time he reached her, Fleur glancing at him before shaking her head. "Yes?" she asked.

"I'm sorry," he gasped out, bent over, a hand clutching his side, trying to draw breath.

"Excuse me, I don't think I heard you right. Could you please repeat that?" she said, looking down at him.

He glared at her softly. "I said, "I'm sorry."

She nodded briskly. "Well, then thank you." And she walked away.

"Wait, don't you have to say it back to me?" he called out, making her stop walking.

She turned around. "Why? Not only did you insult me by telling me that I was enthralled by you, when I could have me pick of cuter, politer French boys when I get home, you just seem all around rude. Why should I say sorry to you?"

"I'm sorry for insult you Fleur. I was just as much enthralled by you; in fact, I could barely keep my eyes off you. I've never seen someone as beautiful as you," he told her, smiling. "And as for my attitude, that's just who I am. Maybe some people know when to give up, I'm not one of those people. I don't stand out in the rain for my health, you know."

Fleur laughed. "Well, Bill Weasley neither am I. I suppose that's why I fought with you," she said, shaking her head. "There's no rain here though."

He walked towards her.

_Her heart pounded. _

"Maybe we could teach each other something," he told her. She nodded eagerly, foolishly.

And then his lips were on hers, and by god it was heaven. She had never felt this way before. These English boys did know how to kiss, that was for sure, perhaps this was the reason her distant cousin had left her French fiancé for one of them.

She laughed as they broke away. "I think I just kissed a Weasley, I'm not sure. They are the ones with red hair and freckles, right?"

He shook his head softly, laughing at her.

They walked back to her parents and sister together, hand-in-hand, and she honestly didn't care what her Maman had to say.

Because as much as she wanted to deny it, French boys were certainly getting boring.

And Bill Weasley was_ an excellent kisser._

* * *

**Tee-hee! Love this, hope you love it too! Written for the Quotes Challenge on HPFFC! Title is from Maybe This Time, love that. Mistakes, please point them out. **


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